Queer as Studies
by Tigerdust
Summary: One of Ben's newest transfer students finds life on Liberty Avenue can change your world. Heavy Ben/Michael relationship with a bit of the other boys and some Ben/OC/Michael. I own nothing except myself and my friends in the story.
1. Chapter 1

"And I want those essays in no later than two weeks from today. Come on people, this is five pages. Should be easy for most of you, no breaks on late papers. I don't like being at my office after six as much as you don't want to be here after three." Ben checked his watch and released his class. Tiny pockets of conversation crept up around the room. In the back corner, one student sat by himself.

Ben dismissed his fan club as fast as he could. There was a group of them, not spectacularly capable but altogether dedicated. Ben allowed them to cavort with him normally, but other things were on his mind today. He cleared his throat. "Mr. Penn? Could I see you for a moment please?"

Startled, John packed away the last of his notes and swung his pack over his shoulder, letting the laptop case swing freely at his hips. John made his way forward to the epicenter of the classroom, taking post by the projector. "Yes, Professor Bruckner?"

"You just transferred from Stanford according to your recent transcripts. Why choose Carnegie Mellon to continue your sociology studies?" Ben pushed his reading glasses back upon the bridge of the nose as John composed his answer.

"Just a…change of pace." John shrugged as if moving across country to change classes was as natural as picking one's nose. "Plus, you came highly recommended by a mutual friend at Stanford when I left the history department."

"Ah. Well, I must say that this," Ben held up an essay at the top of a stack sitting near the lectern, "is an excellent cover of the Scarlet Letter from a gay perspective. I know it was a bit of stretch on the assigned topic, but the high marks are still yours."

John blinked, digesting the information and well surprised. "I don't know what to say, Professor. I've been told more often than not that I get far too swept away in prose."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with a bit of passion. Don't doubt your talents, John. This thesis is easily a B senior project grade, well above performance in my standard class." Ben began scribbling something on the back of one of his office cards. "I was wondering if you'd like to join a discussion group I host during my office hours? Voluntarily, of course."

John took the offered card and turned it over in his palms. "I'm flattered Professor, but you don't want me at your group."

"Why not? I don't offer this to every student."

"I know. But, I tend to make waves in small group settings, talk to much, muddle the point. Besides, I'm a Christian and I'm not really gay."

Ben chuckled and looked down at the stack of essays. "You can tell a lot about a person by the way they write, Mr. Penn. Your thoughts are excellent and well conceived. You can easily convey humor and passion in a way I don't see very often among my students. I think the discussion would benefit from your admittance to the group. Just think it over?"

Ben extended a hand, which was gratefully received by Mr. Penn. John thought it strange that a spark hit him when they shook. Must be a static charge in the room, John thought as he exited the empty auditorium.

John began to roam the unfamiliar streets of Pittsburgh. His day was complete, his mind finally free to wander where it would. Pittsburgh, John thought. Less crowded than Boston, cooler weather than Los Angeles, and an underground culture equal to that of Houston. At least, that's what his friends in San Diego had relayed when he had inquired. And then there was Professor Ben Bruckner.

Several events happened at once while John mulled Ben's offer in his mind. A sharp wind cut across his cheek, a vague leftover from winter. His Irish red hair moved with it, spiking naturally. John's stomach growled and his phone began beeping. At first, the alien sound didn't quite register. Then John saw his flashing calendar icon and began looking around for a place to sit, eat, and open his Bible for a while.

"You lost, Red?" John glanced from the Psalms and his eyes met a waitress with wild red hair piled in a way that he was reminded of a strawberry shortcake he had bought once during a festival in Ohio. Her nametag proclaimed that she was Debbie and the rest of the outfit screamed proud P-Flag parent.

John shook his head. "Pretty sure I'm not. This is a diner, correct?"

"Well, yeah. But we just don't get many of you Bible types in here."

"I'm always missing the memos."

"What can I get for ya, Red?"

John checked his phone. When was the last time he had eaten? "Okay, how about a couple of eggs over easy, some crispy bacon, hash browns…. am I hungry enough for pancakes?" He made a face trying to calculate just how hungry he really was.

"Eat much today?"

"I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich about six." John squinted and leaned in to read one of Debbie's pins.

"In the morning? Honey, doesn't that Bible of yours teach you to eat any?"

John smiled and shrugged. "I get swept away sometimes."

Debbie's smile filled with just a touch of concern. "I've got it. I'll be bringing you the butch bottom special. It'll just be a few minutes."

John muttered and shook his head, returning to the Psalms. "Well, life is supposed to be a buffet and we to eat, eat, eat! At least, that's how I think the quote went."

Debbie turned from the food window. "You sure you ain't gay, Red? Can't remember the last Bible totter I met who could quote Mame."

John stretched his arms over the booth. "When in Rome…" It struck John that the man who came barreling into the diner next was one of the cutest he had ever seen.

"Ma?"

Debbie moved closer to him from the coffee machine. "What's wrong?"

"I just got swamped with weekly inventory and I realized I hadn't had time to make lunch this morning. Can I get a BLT to go real quick? With some fries?"

"Sure hon., no problem. Just grab a seat. The comics ain't just gonna jump off the shelves and disappear you know."

"Ma, I'm in a hurry."

"Hey! I'm in a hurry too. If you haven't noticed, this isn't exactly leisure time at the diner either. And introduce yourself to the new kid." Debbie pointed in John's direction with her elbow and he pretended not to notice she had.

Michael sighed and turned in his counter seat to face John, whose smile was half-hidden by a momentary thirst for coffee. "You wouldn't be smiling so much if she was your mother."

"She's got a big heart."

"And a bigger mouth."

John set his coffee cup down with a clink on the table. "I think she's endearing, a real character. You don't get much of that these days. John, John Penn."

Michael shook his head and smiled, hopping from the stool to take the extended hand. "Michael Novotny. Nice to meet you." John nodded in return. "What is that you're reading? Not a very popular book on Liberty Avenue."

John turned pages of the Bible for effect. "Not very popular anywhere these days. But it helps me collect my thoughts and calms me between rounds of studying and writing for my sociology degree."

Michael slid into the booth opposite of John. "That why you moved to Pittsburgh?"

John smiled. "That, and the fact that it was way cheaper here than living near Stanford. And Professor Bruckner's class is by far one of the most stimulating lecture formats I've had in years."

"Ben's class?" Michael's eyes lit up at the prospect of talking with one of Ben's students. He rarely got the chance to hear accounts of the classroom from Ben, who understandably preferred to leave it at the office.

John leaned in, clearly delighted. "You know Professor Bruckner?"

Debbie appeared with a brown bag in one fist, dots of grease around the bottom half. In the other she held a large plate brimming with hash browns and eggs. "Well, you two look like you're a having a good time. Find something you had in common?"

John's voice cracked with merriment. "You might say that."

Michael cursed and then hopped from the seat, grabbing his sandwich. "My inventory! Look, I really want to continue this conversation, but I'm swamped. Feel free to stop by the comic book shop anytime. Can you give him directions, ma?"

"Directions? Sweetie, I have maps printed out in the back." Debbie put her hand on her hip as Michael pecked her cheek with a kiss. "Love ya, ma. And it was nice to meet you." Michael turned his gaze to John briefly and then barreled out the door at near top speed.

The bell dinged several times and Debbie looked back at the window. "Oh! Rest of your order's up, Red. I'll be right back."

John looked down at his plate and then back at Debbie. "Say, Debbie? Is there anything on this menu that doesn't come in the butch bottom special?"

Twilight was approaching by the time John rolled himself out of the diner. Of course, in early spring Pittsburgh it was hard to tell. But across town, Ben was humming a happy tune to himself as he studied on his couch. Twilight was easily his favorite time of the day. The normal shade of periwinkle grey in the sky matched the mischievous twinkle that came over Michael's eyes as he ripped Ben's shirt off.

The familiar sound of key turning lock assaulted the silent apartment and Ben smiled. Michael bounded over to the couch. "Do you want to hear something really funny?"

Ben leaned over and kissed Michael. After Michael had finally broken the kiss and slid next to him on the couch, Ben approached the topic. "So? You were telling me something funny that happened today?"

"Right. Well, it's not really hilarious. More ironic than anything really." Ben chuckled and shook his head, wondering if Michael would be bringing himself to a point soon. "Anyway, someone came into the diner today who knows you. A student."

Ben cocked his head. "I have lots of students sweetie."

"Oh, but this one's different. He claims you've got a fan club all the way to Stanford."

"John Penn?"

"I think that was his name. He called you Professor Bruckner."

"Oh?" Ben's eyes followed Michael as he moved over to the bedroom doorway and stood with his arms crossed.

"Yeah. And you know, I've always wondered what it would be like to call you professor."

Ben closed his book and got up, vaulting over to where Michael was. There was a growl of pleasure in his throat as he kissed Michael for a second time, this time deeper and longer than the last. Michael felt his lover's pulse as hand met skin. Ben whispered in Michael's ear. "I've never **fucked** a student before."

"First time for everything." There was that twinkle in Michael's eye that Ben loved.

"Guess I'm going to have to repeal that policy."

"I'm going to repeal you of your clothing." With that, Michael grinned.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mr. Penn. Mind staying after for a moment?" Ben finished marking notes at his desk that he acquired during the discussion group. Fresh thoughts and observations often led to the most successful essay topics and oral tests later down the road. He also took a bit of morbid pleasure in the exclusivity of his discussion groups, as is popular among teachers, and hinting at certain things that could come up on tests in the future. It forced students to work at full potential and made his life worlds easier.

"Yes, Professor?" The tension in John's voice was evident. Rarely were you called to stay behind for something good. A book stood over his chest as he fidgeted in the doorway. John hesitantly resumed his seat at the invitation from Ben.

Ben sat his pen back in his utensil coffee mug and folded his hands. "Care to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"Whatever is distracting you? You know, I'm not just here as a professor. Part of my job description is to teach, guide, and lead. If there are improvements to be made than I could really use that feedback."

John felt mortified that Ben would question his teaching style because of his actions. "It's not that Professor. The group is stimulating, almost elite but incredibly amicable if you're knowledgeable and brave enough for it."

Ben walked from his desk over to his Japanese peace lily. He put a bit of water in the small pot and then set a cup on the warmer for tea. He offered and John declined the other cup. "So, this isn't too much pressure for you then?"

John stopped and slid down his seat fractions of a centimeter. "I'm babbling too much, aren't I? I knew I inherited that from my father."

Ben chuckled deeply and exhaled as he tested his tea. "If you are babbling or going wildly off topic I haven't noticed or I've become immune to it. Your points have been valid, often humorous. Unfortunately…."

John relaxed, fixing himself upright back in his seat. "And I thought I was just shooting off my big mouth once too often."

Ben took a long sip of tea. "Unfortunately, your work is about to suffer. I've caught you doing that discreet watch check thing that we professors excel at during long lectures. Sometimes we even bore ourselves."

John groaned. "I hadn't realized that I did that. My apologies."

"You know, John, if you need a little break from the group…."

John sat up sharply, nearly jumping from the chair, his eyes widening. "No! I mean I just have other commitments that have been wondering about my… faithfulness. Believe me, if I didn't want to be here I'd be making excuses Professor Bruckner. They just worry about me, that's all. Nothing I can't handle."

"They?"

John gave a half-hearted smile. "My bible study."

"Ah." Ben's voice mirrored the flat emotion John felt surprised at when he referenced his bible study group. Ben thought for a moment. "Mr. Penn, are you curious?"

"Come again?"

"About an extracurricular project. You see, I can't really advise you on what to do. I can merely make suggestions. But I don't want to see your mind lost to burn out. Think of it as a sociological experiment with no grade or papers. Completely voluntary."

John was, suffice it to say, slightly confused. "Umm…thank you?"

Ben moved over to a crowded bookcase and brought down a volume. "When I'm feeling over taxed and spread too thin, I use this. Now I do happen to know of several studios on Liberty Avenue that teach the basics. You can take it from there."

John turned the book over in his hands. "Liberty Avenue? I eat at a diner there sometimes. I try having quiet study times while this waitress force feeds me twice a week."

Ben chuckled and mumbled something. All John heard completely was, "Debbie."

"Yup." There was a relaxed, momentary silence that stunned both Ben and John. John found Ben studying him, seeing something beyond the shell John had been careful to cultivate it. It unnerved him that he would allow Ben to see anything, any crack in the surface. Then his nose began to twitch, as is natural when someone stares at you for too long.

Ben coughed, breaking the pair from their reverie. John spoke first. "So, I have to…"

Ben shook his head. "My fault. I've kept you too long."

John smiled warmly, reached for the extended hand and moved toward the door. He turned and addressed Ben, "That, Professor, will never be the case."

While Ben sat at his desk, finishing organizing paperwork for the day, Michael was turning his room into a bad version of tornado-strewn trailer park. Emmitt peered in nervously. "Sweetie, what are you looking for?"

Michael sighed, stretching his back. "That black silk shirt."

"The almost sheer one you send off with your pants to be pressed?"

"Have you seen it?" Michael's eyes turned the slightest shade of pouty and disappointed.

Emmitt shrugged. "Weren't you having it cleaned this week?"

"Shit!" Michael's fingers dove back into his shirts with renewed zeal.

Emmitt rolled his eyes. "Its just Babylon. Ben's seen you in and out of every shirt you own. I'm betting he'll love whatever you decide to wear."

"You know, normally I'd agree. But tonight's different."

"How?" Emmitt cocked his head and entered, standing close to Michael.

Michael sighed. "Neither know it, but one of Ben's students is stopping by tonight."

"So? Ben teaches gay studies. I'm surprised we haven't met more of his young protégés there." Emmitt lacked the surprise Michael had when John had entered the comic book shop with book in hand, a coat check from Babylon left in as a bookmark.

"This one's different."

"How?"

Michael turned, slightly miffed. "He just is, okay?"

Emmitt reacted with an amused sigh. "Well, someone's jealous of teacher's new pet."

"Am not! What I am jealous of is the cleaner that has my silk shirt."

"Here." Emmitt steered Michael toward the couch. "I'm going to pick out an ensemble that both you and Ben will love. Now stop worrying. This new kid has more to be jealous of than you."


	3. Chapter 3

Troy turned the faucet off, taking a second to glance at the cool water before gulping it down. The glass clinked on the counter and shown a brilliant stray ray of sunlight through the kitchen. While padding back to his room, Troy was assaulted by a black shirt flung from an open door. He stopped to register the shirt then stepped into the room, bemused.

"Hey man. What's going on in here?"

John didn't even bother to look in the doorway, the sound of his housemate and best friend evident. "Nothing."

"Seems like more than nothing to me. Lose this?"

John turned to meet Troy's gaze. Troy, of course, was almost ready to head to the fellowship dinner. The epicenter of John's Christian sanity and the grounding for John's flights of fancy, that's what Troy meant to him. His straight, almost silver brown hair was offset well by his deep blue shirt. His patent leather shoes and light khakis matched the light brown in his eyes. He was the skinnier and more athletic of the pair, by far handier with a guitar than John. Intelligent, inquisitive, charming, and giving, Troy was the perfect Christian youth worker and John often paled in his shadow. He was part of the reason John had traveled all this way to transfer schools after Stanford.

There was a motion to a nearby pile. "Just go ahead and toss it anywhere. I have to iron it again before I wear it." He returned to flinging shirts all around the room and Troy was bemused by all the empty coat hangers waiting for shirts to return.

"You know, the fellowship does know what you look like in spite of your best efforts to plan other things. You don't really have to dress up for the dinner."

John stopped, hesitating. "I'm not going to the dinner tonight."

"I see."

"It's just that there's this thing with a friend from a comic book store and Professor Bruckner might be there…"

John could feel Troy's questioning gaze bearing down. "Him again? Tell me John, were you ever planning to come back to bible study?"

"That's not fair." John stood, defiantly turning to face Troy. "Aren't you the one always telling me that I should have more non-Christian friends to witness to?"

Troy's eyes lightened. "Of course. So, how is the witnessing going then?"

John looked down at his socks. "It doesn't really come up."

"So where are you going tonight?"

John was overcome with thirst and headed for the door, blocked by Troy. "It's probably better for us both if I don't tell you."

"I don't have time to chase you. We've been over this. Just tell me."

"Babylon." John stepped past the stunned Troy who chased him toward the kitchen. John sat orange juice from the fridge next to Troy's glass. Oddly enough, this truth didn't seem to feel like it set him free.

"I knew this class was a bad idea! All those prayer groups, all the bull about home. And you're willing to toss it away for Babylon?" Troy grabbed John's arm as he moved to exit the room with his juice. "I'm worried about you."

John stopped, examining Troy. All this was from a man who couldn't use the word love. All this from someone who wouldn't invite the man who called him brother home for Thanksgiving or Easter, but his eyes were honest and he knew Troy was really afraid.

Exhaustion and frustration formed the response that followed John's sigh. "Don't worry about me."

John's cell phone vibrated sometime later while he was exiting the steam of the back alley. He had paced his room for an hour after Troy left, dressing and changing outfits. He read the message twice through, a simple check-in text from Troy. He took a moment, trying to decide if it was worth the hassle to not answer. Looking around him now, John wondered what all the fuss was really about.

The techno bass shivered through the walls and ears and patrons all around. Men lined the alley and milled about the streets in pairs. Most were incredibly handsome and youthful. Some wore festive costumes that reminded John of the parade scene from Sum of Us.

"What are you smiling at, boy?" A man with a salt and pepper moustache caused John to lean back further against the wall. The man, obviously some combination of drunk and drugged, continued. "I'll give you something to really smile about."

John stammered out a brief answer before he knees gave way to fear. "No…no thanks. I'm waiting for my…boyfriend to get here."

"How would he feel about something else going down your throat tonight besides a drink?"

John felt the blood rush from his face. He was pinned, contemplating silently what to do in such a scenario.

"Now, now. Let the young man alone Tank. If you go get the car warmed up, I'll…" the taller man who had witnessed the exchange between John and Tank whispered something in his ear that caused Tank to smile beneath his moustache and amble away.

"Sorry about that." The man extended his hand. "The name's Dave. This your first time at Babylon?"

John took the hand gratefully. "That obvious?"

"Afraid so, but it's a rite of passage. Most men here will understand." John gave a half-hearted smile. "Don't worry about it too much, sweetie. Most of them don't bite, unless, you know, that's what you're into." John laughed and Dave looked over to the fog. "I'd best get going before he comes looking for me. Have a good night."

Dave hurried over to the fog and John called out thanks with a big wave. With that bit of encouragement and icebreaker, John pocketed his phone, collected himself, and made his way up the stairs into the inferno of bodies known as Babylon.

Most of the men inside were like amped-up versions of the outdoor counterparts. John thought of mannequins and window dressings. The way they danced reminded him of posing models, not dancers. He didn't feel very comfortable looking in any direction. Everywhere there seemed to be muscles, skin, bulges. It was all very disconcerting for someone used to hiding himself, someone used to having control over his urges. John made a command decision to keep control. It was imperative he not lose that control by dancing. He knew himself at least that well.

John ordered a rum and coke when he finally made it to the back bar. Stuffing himself easily into a corner away from the beat, John sipped on his first drink. Out of the corner of his eye, John noticed someone glancing at him every so often. His face was a bit over average but his eyes were amazing. They reminded John of chocolate chip cookie baking sprees he'd done with his bible study during long winters. He smiled at the memory and raised his glass in salute to the man, who motioned him over.

Against his better judgment, he picked his way again through the crowd and over to Ted. "Just pick one."

Had John heard him right? "Excuse me?"

"The first rejection's the hardest. Just pick the closest cute guy and let that build up your resistance."

John blinked as Emmitt appeared over Ted's shoulder. "Teddy! Don't tell someone so obviously new something like that!" Emmitt proceeded to fill the gap between Ted and John. "Don't listen to him, honey. It's a big place full of fabulous men who I'm sure are just waiting for a dance with you."

John began racking his brain for a response when Ted felt the need for rebuttal. "Oh sure, fill the new kid's head with that. Then he'll blame us when it doesn't pan out. Experience is better than wishful thinking."

"Yeah. The experience of being a loser." Brian leaned over the bar and ordered two doubles. John watched his graceful, lean movements. He was attractive, but there was something amiss about him.

"I give it a month before he's hanging around the bar just gawking." Ted took a swig of his beer for effect.

Brian raised his eyebrow and spoke directly to Ted after slamming down his first drink. "That's bullshit. We all know he'd have to have your level of confidence for that to happen and I'm not sure he could reach that low underground." John couldn't quite decide if that was a compliment being thrown his way or not.

"How would you know Brian? When were you ever rejected?" The disgust and envy in Ted's voice was palatable.

Brian bared his teeth. "Exactly. If he listens to you then he **will** be rejected."

"Okay, Stella, Scarlet. Tone down the drama. This is not another episode of Dallas."

Brian slammed down his second drink. "Spare us the queerer than thou speech, Emmitt."

Ted breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh thank God. Michael!"

John lost all sensation in his body and missed whatever Emmitt said waving them over. Michael was surfing through the crowd with Ben. Even in a crowded room, John could identify his upper half, both sides when he was twisted around. His naked frame was clad with a pair of tight jeans, shirt hanging from a belt loop. John turned toward the bar in an effort to slow thought which seemed to be zooming round his mind at about a million miles an hour.

Emmitt nudged John's shoulder as general greetings went around. John heard a rustle of fabric, praying that meant Ben had his shirt back on. Emmitt's words finally broke through the solitude. "Sorry, guess he's a little shy." Emmitt struggled with John's stubbornness, but finally succeeded in turning him around. "And this is…."

"John." Michael and Ben spoke at the same time, shooting a glance at each other afterward. John burst into laughter. Oh, it all made so much sense now! Michael had been all mysterious about his boyfriend's name for a reason.

Ted observed for about a minute before leaning into Emmitt's ear. "I think I'm missing something here."

Emmitt responded. "You're not the only one."

John composed himself long enough for a quick hug to Michael. "You planned this, didn't you?" Ben looked from John to Michael.

Grinning widely, Michael tossed up his shoulders. "Surprise!"

John shook his head and grabbed for Ben's hand. "How are you, professor?"

Emmitt, stunned, pointed between the two. "So wait. This is Ben's student you met at the diner and spent two hours having me pick the perfect outfit for?"

John, still trying to cope from his fit of laughter, turned back towards the bar. "Guilty as charged! Now who needs another drink?"

Ted called the bartender over. "Another round, please."

The night crawled successfully onward. John found himself relaxing. Most of the boys of Babylon were harmless, simple window dressings for larger scale sexual desires. Most of that was completely ineffective to John. He also found Ted and Emmitt to be quite amicable companions-when they weren't distracted, that is.

Michael leaned into John after coming back from a dance with Ben. "So, I started working on your request."

"Which one?" John gave Michael a perplexed look.

"Both."

"How in the world are you going to find Doctor Who and old Lantern comics?"

Michael shrugged and grinned, still in time with the beat. John found himself avoiding Ben's gaze for the umpteenth time that night. "Okay, sweetie." Emmitt approached John's hand at the bar and yanked it away. "I think you've done enough moping around the water cooler. You should be about ready to find some hot man to get your groove on with."

John sobered up and gave a half amused grin. "Oh no, no, no. I don't dance."

Emmitt tilted his head. "Honey, you're gay! Now go on and make Fred Astaire proud!"

John rolled his eyes. "I'm not gay."

Emmitt plowed forward. "Well, regardless, you can still make Gene Kelly proud. Now get out there."

"Well, I did watch that Broadway Melody scene from Singing in the Rain about a million times."

"See?" Emmitt motioned to the dance floor. "Go on then."

Ben piped up abruptly. "I'll take him."

John felt any buzz fade accompanied by a jelly-like feeling around his knees. "Professor, you don't have to do that."

Michael chimed in. "That's a great idea!" He moved out of the space between the two.

Ben grinned. "Looks like you're outvoted."

John allowed himself to be lead out by Ben. "Hurray for me." Ben began to sway with rhythmic bass running through his hips and shoulders. His arms pumped back and forth, knees occasionally twisting in a graceful manner. John kind of pumped his knees nervously back and forth in time to the beat. He was sure his emotions could be felt crawling all over his face.

"You know, John. I'm not a professor here. Call me Ben when we're at Babylon, especially when we're dancing with each other." Were John's legs moving anymore? He couldn't specifically tell. All he could see, hear, feel was Ben's body moving. He was the entirety of John's present vision and John could feel his throat refusing to swallow.

How many times had John imagined this; that tan, tall body just hid by a thin cotton cloth? How many times had he moved closer when Professor, no, Ben had made a joke or moved the discussion along in the extracurricular for the class? And now Ben was…removing his shirt?

John stood frozen as deep blue rays pulsated through the chasms of Babylon. The first drops of sweat clung stubbornly to Ben's pecs. He leaned in, the scent of ivory and sweat mixing and assaulting John's nose.

"I'm proud of you."

John simply could not hear correctly in Babylon it seems. "What?"

"It takes a lot of courage to do what you've done tonight."

"I haven't done anything. Why does everyone here think I'm gay?"

Ben chuckled, shook his head, and drew closer to John. His fingers moved into John's belt loops. "Is this okay with Michael?"

"Acceptable form of American gay male culture." John felt better for some reason. This statement was somehow a bond between the two, a secret life they shared. John smiled, his body loosening against the music.

John's brain shut down the rationalizing part of itself for the moment. The exhilaration captured him. Somewhere he knew it was the adrenaline of movement and the freedom, but those phrases buzzed behind the shut down part of his mind. He felt so grateful to Ben. Ben, who was moving John's hands toward his rib cage.

"And I thought you said you couldn't dance?" Ben's flesh enticed John more than it incinerated his fingers. There was something about the creases against his flat stomach. Something about the shadows against his tan that John's traitorous fingers found invigorating. Ben watched John's hands move and then his gaze turned towards John's eyes, filled with fear and some sort of longing emotion.

"It's okay to be yourself. This life, now, is all you have to live with." John convinced himself, poorly, that those words were not an invitation. They had nothing to do with a kiss or with further activities dancing could lead toward. That was stupid. Ben was in a relationship with Michael. Didn't that mean anything to John? Shouldn't it mean anything to John? He had no desire to hurt them, himself, or Troy, who must have already gotten home from dinner in complete distress because John hadn't been keeping with their system.

"Are you okay? You look like you're going to faint." John found Ben's hand reaching toward the small of his back for support. Instead of fainting, John felt himself propelling his body towards Ben and into a kiss that lasted less than thirty seconds. John allowed himself to want Ben's kiss, to need that kiss, to accept what it could mean with Ben's flesh pressed against his on the dance floor of Babylon.

There was surprise, shock on the other end of the kiss. A natural reaction leaning towards reciprocation and the taste of slight tongue. John ripped himself away almost as quickly as he had unconsciously decided to advance toward it.

"Oh God, what have I done?" The music faded, a distant memory. John posed the question beyond Ben toward the blind mannequins and window dressings of Babylon. He stumbled backward a step, any longing overcome by complete and total fear of his own actions, clouded also with embarrassment and shame. Ben didn't have time to form a response before John pealed away into the night, stopping only when his lungs began burning a block from home.


	4. Chapter 4

Ben could feel how out of tune with himself he was in the following week. A cloud hovered over him during meditation, his lectures not quite as succinct as they usually were. Concern, punctuated by John's audible absence from both class and the diner suggested a war to Ben. This was a war that was hard enough to fight with people who accepted and loved you no matter what. He knew it was a war he shouldn't let John fight alone, but prying was not one of his strong suits and often he took pride in that. John would never be aware of the long conversations Ben and Michael had produced in the interim after and before the kiss. They both knew one thing for sure. John needed him.

"You look beat, Ben." Steam from Debbie's hot coffee clouded Ben's eyes momentarily.

"We haven't been sleeping much." Ben rubbed his hands over his eyes, yawning as he vainly tried focusing on the book in front of him.

"What's wrong?" Debbie's face melted into one of concern.

Ben nodded, acceding. "John."

"Are you the reason Red's disappeared off the face of this earth?" Debbie didn't have the heart to admonish him more. She saw a pain in his eyes that she could have done without it. It was the kind of pain that even put a damper on her spirits. "Go fix it then."

"He has to want help first."

"Bullshit." Debbie hit Ben upside the head with her ordering pad and bit down on her lip. "You're his professor. Besides, Jesus, you're the only thing I ever heard him talk about with any sort of light in his eyes."

Ben grimaced. "It's not that easy."

Debbie hit him again. "Like hell. Make it that easy. I don't have to tell you how hard this is all alone." She addressed Ben after hitting him once more for good measure. "I don't want another member of the family lost. Go help Red. He needs you. And my lemon bars." She bagged a few quickly for Ben and forced them in his hand.

Ben left with the bag under threat of further ordering pad assault if Red wasn't seen at the diner soon. Ben found himself moving swiftly towards his student files, finding John's address. Debbie was right. He'd already waited too long as it was.

John refused to return voice mail messages or e-mails. The four-room ranch was dark and lifeless as Ben pulled by. He sighed, turning back towards campus. Ben knew John hadn't been back at Babylon since. Maybe would never go back again. A sound drifted towards his car as he parked and swung the door open. He followed the notes of the oboe.

The auditorium was half-lit for the benefit of the quartets performing in a federal disaster benefit. Ben could hear voices inside. He knew John was a fan of many in the music department, some of his dearest friends were cited with insane practice schedules during a class discussion of duty in art. Ben also suspected that he had a gift or talent for music he wasn't using and part of the outlet was to be close enough to the music.

Leaning his bike on the inside of the vestibule, Ben passed various portraits of past musical majors down a short hallway. The first four rows of the theater were the only ones lit. The band played on in slightly distressed melodies and Ben waited for his opportunity. When the ballad parted, he rose from his seat and began a walk towards the stage.

The piano player was the first to speak, almost half-hidden behind his black baby grand. "I don't know Toby. Something's missing during that bridge."

Toby sighed, leaning his cello across his neck. "Do I have to remind you that we're only doing ballads for this event Peter? We're not, and I repeat not, normally a ballad band."

There was smoke and a deep orange glow moving off-stage. The blond bassist pushed back a large crop of bushy hair and the oboe player just chewed on his spit valve while watching the exchange with amusement.

Peter took an Altoids box from his shirt pocket and began to chew. "Maybe we should just face facts. Maybe we're not right as a band."

The deep orange glow flickered away and the voice caused Ben to resume a closer seat, still mostly in the dark. It was familiar, if not a bit harsher than Ben remembered. The voice coughed once before beginning. "Mr. Zimmer would love to hear this conversation. He'd be the first to toss your names in the bin for the disaster concert."

Toby spoke after craning his head toward the darkness. "Well, what do you think? You're the only person who's been to every rehearsal and gig we've done this year."

The voice stepped from the darkness, revealing a very pale and grated-out John. Ben gasped. John mirrored the feelings he'd kept tucked away all this past week. He walked, almost with a hobble, toward the piano, leaning for support more than to relax. "You don't want my opinion gentlemen."

Marc, the oboe player, popped the wooden tab into a cup near his case. "Bullshit. Whatever's been eating you alive hasn't killed you completely. Or otherwise you wouldn't be here. Now spill."

John sighed. "Fine." He gathered himself together and closed his eyes momentarily while deciding on the right words. Ben recognized the word, but wasn't sure if he was mocking himself or was being honest. "Passion. You gentlemen have lost that proverbial Prometheus."

Peter began to rebut, his brow furrowed. "We have passion. We practice more than any other band at this school and yet we don't get better."

John coughed and Ben felt eyes momentarily bearing down on his seat. "No. You're confusing passion with dedication Pete."

"Show us." The words stuck to Peter's throat, as though he'd been contemplating asking for too long.

"I'm sorry." John shook his head. "I can't do anything to help you."

Toby stood, catching his cello just before it hit the ground. His voice was strained, almost a yell and then almost a plea. "We don't care what happened between you and Professor Bruckner! We only care about what's happening to you. Every cough we feel. Please, as a favor to us, to yourself. One song."

John sighed, mounting himself on the piano. He began clicking his nails. His voice was flat, distant. "Okay, just one song. Passion…passion…let's see…"

"Something we'd all fuckin' know." Marc commented while warming up his oboe.

John nodded after he closed his eyes again. "Follow my lead."

_You want all my love and my devotion_

_You want my loving soul right on the line_

_Oh baby_

He leaned down slightly, causing Peter to smile as he played. He felt his hair being tousled as John moved upright again.

_I have no doubt that I could love you_

_Forever_

The only trouble is

_You really don't have the time_

_You've got one night only, one night only_

_That's all you have to spare_

_One night only_

_Let's not pretend to care_

His eyes were closed, intense. He belted the words from the very depth of his soul. Ben could see, could feel across the air the pain John was expressing. It disturbed him and called to him. He shivered.

_We've got one night only, one night only_

_Come on big baby, come on_

_One night only_

We've only got until dawn

John's hand moved across his chest, grasping as thought it was his very heart. He was shaking, but something more was happening. The only thing behind him keeping up was the oboe. Toby dropped his bow and didn't even bother trying to retrieve it.

_In the morning this feeling will be gone_

_It has no chance going on_

_Something so right has got no chance to live_

_So let's forget about chances_

It's one night I will give

John's hand stretched toward the lights and yet Ben felt as though he was searching the audience, as though he knew that Ben was present. Or wished him to be.

_One night only, one night only _

_Then you'll have to run_

_Oooh, Oooh_

John leaned back, savoring the oh sound he made and shaking just a little.

_One night only, one night only_

_There's nothing more to say_

_One night only_

_Words get in the way_

John gasped as he awoke from his trance.

The urges that struck Ben as the oboe's solo sped downwards were two fold and somewhat parallel. He wanted to run up to John, seize him, and hold him until he understood that things would be good again. Everything would be right again, even if he couldn't guarantee that. Then all he could think about was what it would be like to have both Michael and himself give John some personal TLC. The beginnings of a plan formed in his mind.

John spoke softly, looking directly at Toby. "Do you understand now?"

Toby gulped. "I didn't know man. None of us did. I just, I just wanted to hear you sing again. Even if it was just a hymn from Dreamgirls."

John smiled deeply, walking under the stage lights after climbing down from the piano. He kissed Toby on the top of his head. "I know. Thank you." He whispered in a way that made Toby shiver. John moved away from the band, toward the stage stairs. It's late. I'd better go. Troy will be worried."

Peter saluted. "Give him hell, John!"

John smiled as he hopped down the stairs. The smile faded as shoes blocked the aisles. His eyes traveled up the man's body. John already knew who it was. He just tried delaying the inevitable conversation. He began cleaning his new glasses on his shirt. "Ben."

"We've been missing you in class."

"I…I had things to take care of."

"I asked around." Ben shrugged as he looked down at John, whose eyes were pointed directly to the left of his arm. "Seems you've been taking care of a lot of things."

"Don't you have a conflict of interests with me? Isn't it easier this way? Never mind." John shook his head. "All with be revealed." He stopped a moment and thought. "Damn, Troy was right. I am too cryptic for my own good."

"We should talk about what happened."

John shook his head again and smiled grimly. "No need. You did me a great favor Professor Bruckner. A greater favor than you'll ever know." John reached out for Ben's arm, causing Ben to move. He patted the arm as he moved up the aisle.

"I didn't know you could sing," Ben called out behind him, turning.

John smiled. "There seems to be quite a bit we didn't know about each other." He thought and stopped. "Oh! I do know I'll definitely be gone this Thursday. Turning twenty-one. Big year!" With that, John waltzed back into the darkness, just briefly opening the back Ben had thrust into his hand. He shook his head again as he registered Debbie's lemon bars.


	5. Chapter 5

"And then he just walked away." Ben sighed, seeming to descend deeper into the couch.

Ben peered down to the other end as Emmitt spoke. "Maybe he's planning himself a birthday party! Twenty one is a big year after all." Michael's glare petrified Emmitt, who mouthed a sorry after some thought.

Ted, sitting between Emmitt and Ben, spoke next. "I remember how awful those first few months were. Feeling like living in a new skin, meeting yourself for the first time. You couldn't pay me enough to relive that."

Emmitt winced. "You don't think he would do anything…drastic, do you Ben?"

Ted shrugged. "You know what Brian would do if it were up to him."

The conversation lagged on but Ben lost focus. John's eyes haunted him. He found himself driving home with Michael beside him. As they lay together, Michael weaved his hands through Ben's hair to gain his attention. "Where were you tonight? You seemed so far away."

Ben shook his head. "You didn't see him. You weren't there. I'm scared Michael."

"If you need to rescue him then I'll understand." Michael proceeded to emphasize the point with a nod and wide smile.

"There's more to it than that."

"How do you figure? Rescue him and you'll be rescuing a part of yourself too."

Ben leaned over to kiss Michael firmly. "I love you."

"I know." Michael snuggled into Ben, who delayed his sleep while forming the final details of his plan.

Another twilight found Ben burning the midnight oil, trying vainly to concentrate on school papers. His gaze drifted out the window over to the auditorium. He'd never noticed the way the lights in the old buildings blinked and twinkled like the brightest stars. A light rapping at his open door captured Ben's attention.

"Yes?" Ben's gaze tore from the window. She stood at his doorway, unsure. She had never been in one of his classes, but felt like she knew Professor Bruckner personally.

Pam spoke first. "I'm sorry to disturb you so late Professor, but this couldn't wait for your office hours tomorrow."

Ben motioned her in and she hurried to the closest seat. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Pam Chua. You have a student in one of your classes, John Penn? He talks about you so often and I thought maybe you could help…"

"John? What's happened?" Ben's eyes fought between sharpening and going wide with some sort of manic fear based on notions others had raised with their counsel.

"I wouldn't come to you if I didn't think you could. Please, you've got to stop them though."

"Ms. Chua? I admire that you came to tell me about this. I've been worried about John for a while now. Please, whatever it is feel free to tell me."

Tires squealed as the car sped to a stop in front of the Penn residence. Troy sat on the porch with his book bag spilled half on the ground and a can of WD-40 next to his skateboard wheels. He looked up, unimpressed. Ben tried to collect himself, vainly trying not to barrel into the house.

Troy blinked as he came walking up the drive and Ben spoke. "Is John Penn available?"

"John's not feeling very social right now."

"I think he'll want to see me."

Troy brushed a stray hair from his forehead. "And you are?"

"Professor Ben Bruckner." Troy took the offered hand and shook his head, suppressing a grimace.

"Huh. I've heard a lot about you Professor."

"And you are?"

"Troy Hunters. John's probably mentioned me, my guess."

"He has. And I must say you also live up to your description. Maybe you could help me. Is John actually here right now?"

"What do you need to see him for?" Troy raised his eyebrow.

"To discuss a project I'm having him work on."

Troy's mind wanted to scream in Ben's face but he controlled his emotions. He assumed this whole fiasco had begun with the professor and the Babylon incident, which John had been very good at clamming up, which was slightly abnormal for him. Usually one of Troy's annoyed stares did the trick. A week of that hadn't worked this time. "Isn't that what office hours are for, professor?"

"John's been unavailable recently. Any idea why?"

"Maybe he doesn't want to see you?" Troy ventured a half-guess.

"Are you speaking for him?"

Troy bit his bottom lip. "Don't you think you've done enough damage, Professor Bruckner?" There was a beep, followed by a crash inside. The beep came from Troy's phone, lying with his books. Troy proceeded to scoop most of the scattered contents back into his bag, ignoring the crash. "I have to get to class. If you'll excuse me, John's busy enough that he might as well not be here."

"Don't you want to see what that crash was?"

The lie was too quick from Troy's mouth. "Probably the stray cat we feed from time to time."

John's voice came from the screen. "Damn it, Troy. Did you mix up my ravioli with your….". John stopped mid-stream, gaping at Ben's presence on the porch. His train of thought decided to completely derail. A wind moved across at that moment, cutting perfectly so that Ben's hair moved and he hugged his light leather jacket just a bit closer.

Troy emphasized his chosen words carefully. "I was just telling Professor Bruckner how busy you are today." It was perfect, discreet, almost undetectable admonishment.

"Yes, well, where are my manners? I always have time for a teacher, Troy." John's fake smile unnerved both men. "Please, do come in Professor. Don't you have class?"

Troy responded as John swung the screen door open. "Canceled."

"Theories of Mechanics in Modern Engineering was canceled a week before a mid-term? Your favorite class? Go on, Troy. You've got to start trusting me again sometime."

Troy hesitated as he moved down the driveway, thinking. _It's not you I'm worried about trusting_.

John moved as Ben entered the open screen door, closing the main door behind him. It was spring, but still there was a light winter chill briefly in the air. John hooked Ben's coat on the nearest peg, catching himself before he inhaled too much of that ivory scent he missed so much. "Nice guard dog," Ben spoke into the silence.

"He worries. So to what do I owe this visit to our humble pseudo-dormitory?" Ben followed John down a wood hallway to a sparse seventies style kitchen. John rummaged through the fridge after opening the door. Ben caught the reflection of black duffels from John's nearly bare room in the mirrors. A few wires from a gutted stereo cascaded down the walls. "I'd offer you a drink Professor, but I am a college student after all. Let's see…I've got three flavors of Gatorade and…more Gatorade! Gable must have drunk that last Khaos Monster I had. Oh well."

Ben thought briefly, deciding direct was the best manner. "Pam Chua stopped by my office today. She sent me." Ben desperately wanted to say that he came of his own volition, desperately wanted to say so much to John but failed.

"So we don't have to pretend, do we?" There was a flash of sadness as Ben glimpsed at John's eyes over the fridge door.

"She seems to think I mean a great deal to you. She's also very panicked."

"Pam just wants me to be happy, whatever that means." John dismissed his happiness as an issue with a flutter of his fingers.

"Are you happy though?" Ben's eyes had a way of directly looking past his smoke and mirrors.

John shrugged. "Happiness is the most relative thing in the world, Ben."

Ben sighed. "You know, I meant what I said when I gave you that book. If you'd just listen to me…."

John's face distorted as he balanced himself in the fridge door to keep from slamming it. "Listen to what? Listen to you tell me about what my new life at Eagle Reform House for Wayward Christians is going to be like? Because we both know I'm smart enough to guess that. Or better yet are you telling me that you need me? Because we both know that would be so easy for you."

"John, you are **not** a bad person." Ben emphasized as much as he could in the phrase. "You don't deserve the torture you're putting yourself through here."

"Torture? So what, what are you going to say? Based on one night that your little Babylon buddies miss me, that Michael misses me? Or better yet, that you want me to be an adulterer and lust after you like everyone seems to lust after that slut Brian? No, that's not me. And I can nip this thing in the bud now. I have to stop myself. A rolling stone can crush your toes Ben."

Ben raised his voice, not quite shouting but just enough to vainly try to reach through the walls John had built for himself, to try and shatter some part of that cocoon of warped pain. "You'd let them steal your mind, wouldn't you? You'd let them badger you and throw stones at you for something you simply aren't?"

John gulped air, a tide of emotions rolling over his head. "Please go."

"Not until we end this madness." Ben moved over to the fridge, standing in John's path and blocking him.

John sighed, not even bothering to look at Ben except for glances. He shook, although with rage or fear was not something Ben was prepared to venture a guess for. "The only madness I see here is you. You sweeping in from your perfect life on Liberty Avenue to try and rescue me. Me! One poor little gay Christian who was completely at peace before he met you!"

"How long were you planning on lying to yourself? Long enough before it boiled over and exploded out of you like Pompeii or Mount Saint Helens?"

"Doesn't matter."

"You called my life perfect John. But it's not. You should know it's not."

"Oh God. Really? Cause I'm pretty sure I could call bullshit on you right now." John laughed harshly, venting all his negativity through his words, finally turning to face Ben. Ben stood, allowing John to unleash the hurt and mistrust and however many years of pain he'd harbored in his soul. Only with that release, Ben thought, could he begin to heal and begin to tear away at the cocoon. "Just look at you Ben! Who could ever have a chance? Who could ever compare? The body of a marble God mixed with the mind of a great philosopher or a contemporary revolutionary. The great boyfriend and apartment of an upstanding gay citizen or am I mistaking this all somehow? Or should I include the part where I'd rip out any man's throat who would say otherwise or would be foolish enough to not want you after meeting you?"

Ben shook his head, allowing John to continue on as he closed his eyes, bearing the final brunt of the storm. "And just look at me! Go on. Take a good long look."

"I am." Ben swallowed hard, forming a thesis and rebuttal for saving one life.

"Then you'd best get some stronger binoculars to look out your ivory tower, Professor. Because I'm not a Babylon mannequin. Never have been and never will be. I don't want to live based on who I'm fucking or whom I have fucked. I live based on my skill. The power of words in my songs; the mind of man like Doctor Who. The Chinese watercolors I decorate my room with. For Christ' sake, Ben, I've got a doughnut hanging around my midsection I haven't been able to rid myself of in five years! Who could want something like that?"

Ben's voice trembled and was very quiet. "I was never asking you to be them or to change to be like them. If that's something you want then I would still try and stop you. But that was never the point and you have my word as a man that any stress I've put you under was never intended and was an ill side effect as that I'd never wish on you. Please, let me tell you why I let you kiss me."

His eyes pleaded with John, whose voice drained itself of emotion and whose eyes became very tired. "Because it meant absolutely nothing in your world. I already knew the reason Ben. Just because you're that kind of perfect doesn't mean I can be."

"If you only knew how wrong you were…."

"Then enlighten me." What Ben heard John say was not enlighten but save.

Ben bowed his head before searching deep into John's eyes and sighing. "I'm HIV positive."

John blinked, turning once more toward the fridge. "We have a lot of red Gatorade in here if you're a fan…."

"Did you hear me?"

John fumbled, pulling a Red Gatorade from the shelf and allowing the bottle to drop towards the floor. "No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no." To say John was crest-fallen would be mild language. "Oh God! Not you."

"Don't you think I deserve this? Isn't that what your doctrine says?"

"I could never agree with that." John turned, standing and facing Ben.

"Then how could you believe…? Gatorade is spilling across the floor."

"Shit!" John manically grabbed for a roll of nearby paper towels and raced around, sopping up the liquid around the fridge and Ben's feet before Ben could stoop to help. He slid to the ground as the towels sopped up the last of the liquid, head buried in his hands. He was clearly exhausted. "How…how could I let you do this to me?"

Ben sat next to him, continuing to move closer until John stopped shrinking away and gave in to surrender. He allowed Ben's arm to hold him and Ben's scent to provide some meager form of strength. He didn't cry, was devoid of tears save for the dry kind. He had already cried too much. "You said yourself," Ben began in a gentle and low voice. "Any guy would be crazy not to fall for me. And one more secret?"

"Don't tell me. You're actually the model for Hal Jordan…."

Ben smiled, a small chuckle shining through. "No. You should just know that I've been watching Doctor Who as well. The relationship between Jack and the Doctor fascinates me. Just like Jack and Ianto in Torchwood."


	6. Chapter 6

The big day of John's birthday arrived. There was no fanfare from the birds in the air. There was no cake or songs at midnight, which was general tradition for his group. There was nothing to stop the world from turning, from people working or going to class. In short, it was an average day. Just another spring April fourth to be counted and knocked out on the calendar.

He had a truce worked out with Troy. It was as easy as that. He had traded most of his freedoms to hold off Eagle Reform until the end of the semester. His logic made frightening and easy sense. John had exclaimed to Troy that it was best if they waited. After all, we wouldn't want me to just disappear and have all this suspicion raised, would we? That would be bad press, after all.

There had been times in the beginning of their friendship where John would have killed for hours and hours of time with Troy. He was fascinated by Troy and how he lived his life, how hard he lived his life. In some ways it was inspiring and in other ways it was like being the man rubber-necking before the crash. Maybe there was a bit of envy mixed into it all. John didn't know nor care at this point if that was the case.

Truth be told, he wanted to go to the reform house now if just to get some peace and quiet. He imagined he wouldn't get much there, but it made him feel better. He craved some alone time. John wasn't plotting an escape as much as Troy was naturally inclined to believe. John had saved himself from being the sacrificial cow once before and Troy had every right to be suspicious. Truth was, John was not willing to sacrifice Ben, not thrilled by the idea at all.

_This is stupid. I should just turn around and head home. I can make food for myself, very and highly capable of it_. He could see Debbie's hair as she moved from order window to table. To the untrained eye, she wasn't leading the chaos. But John watched her lasso the tornado and make it bend to her will. There was a sudden unnatural chill in the air, nudging John inside. He was hungry enough not to ignore it as well. He sighed as he entered and tried to quietly slide onto a stool, hiding his face behind a coffee cup.

Didn't work so well. Debbie lit up as she saw John stagger to his chair. "Hiya Red! Guess all that hitting knocked some sense into Ben. Be right with you. Don't go anywhere." Debbie filled his first cup with coffee. "So, what'll it be, one of everything? Love the new blue specs by the way!"

John tried to control something inside of him, rising from his throat. When was the last time someone had been this happy to see him without alternative motive? "Thanks Deb. I was just hoping to get some pancakes…Wait. Did you say that you hit Ben?"

Debbie's eyes shone as she smiled. "With my ordering pad. You're family, kid. We missed you while you were gone. Who else am I gonna fatten up whose not arguing?" It was bizarre, but John could only shrug. Debbie was proud of herself and her family, of which he supposed he was a member. He only wondered when she'd start hitting him with an order pad. Would it be when he left for Eagle Reform?

"I also have a favor to ask. Could you load some chocolate chips in that batter? It's kind of a birthday celebration for me."

Debbie's eyes sparkled. "Well congrats, Red! I'm sure that won't be a problem. How old you turning this year?"

John's head lowered towards his coffee cup. "Truth be told, I'd rather not make a fuss."

"Nonsense! No one else is going to spoil you in the world 'cept for yourself. Hold that thought." Debbie rushed toward the ringing phone. "And don't go anywhere." John couldn't hear Michael babbling away on the other end of the phone. Only Debbie's body language changed manically and slightly. John could hear the Okays and the nods and such, but ignored most of it. Phone orders this late at night. Debbie's work, much like his own, never seemed to end.

Debbie returned, almost seeming to glide to his seat. Her gum had a chirping little motion added onto the end of the snap. John looked up, hopefully. "So, about those pancakes…."

"Forget the pancakes. What are you doing for yourself, for your birthday?"

John sighed. "Well, it's a bit of Hemmingway I'd suppose. Pancakes, cards from parents, half a bottle of rum. In that order."

"Geez. Sounds like a blast. Don't you think a birthday like this deserves a party?"

"No. Nothing quite that romantic, thanks." John's eyebrow lifted as he drank his coffee.

"Come on!" Debbie nudged him on his shoulder. "That's no way to spend your birthday! You should go over to Babylon, dance a little! Maybe try to get lucky."

John's voice retorted dryly. "I have no desire to go to Babylon."

"You sure, Red?" Debbie's face turned a curious direction, slanting to look at him.

"Unless you know something I don't."

"I really think you'd enjoy yourself."

John sighed. "I'm not getting pancakes tonight, am I?"

"Nope." There was that damn infuriating secret smile just hopping from Debbie's lips.

_Crap_, John thought as he groaned. "They planned something, didn't they?"

Debbie moved around the counter, yanking John from his stool. "You'll never find out standing around here, will you?"

It was an understatement to say that Babylon was one of John's least favorite places. You could probably win an award with an understatement of that kind. But he went anyways. He could act surprised. And who was he to turn down free cake? He moved through the crowd of dead souls, stopping at the bar for his free birthday shot. John worried because it didn't taste like the ya'all or even a screwdriver. The birthday shot was clear and tasteless. He was sure no good would come of this.

He leaned against the bar and watched the crowd, trying to discern the position of any of his, or Ben's he supposed, friends. For all appearances, it seemed like a normal night. No sign of a party, no sign of them. There was a flash of white light, a glimpse of a t-shirt. There was a sole person dancing onstage. It was…Ben?

John made his way toward the stage, Ben ignored by the rest of the crowd. What in the devil going on? John yelled up to Ben. "What are you doing?" But no matter how many times John shook his head or moved back, Ben continued to beckon him up to the stage.

He heard Emmett's voice in his ear the moment before he began to panic. "Now honey, it's bad gay etiquette to keep a hot man waiting! Up you go." John felt the several pairs of hands, most familiar, forcing him up onto the stage. No way out. Let the birthday proceedings begin. How much had Brian paid the folks at Babylon for this? Oh God, and what if he wants reimbursement?

A spotlight hit Emmett, who leapt up the stage stairs with a microphone in his hand. The music stopped, and the crowd turned toward the stage after a moment. "Now it seems we have a young man here who's a little blue. It's his birthday today but he doesn't wish to celebrate. How would you feel about not having partied on your twenty first?"

A few in the crowd booed. Ben held onto John's shoulder so he couldn't slink away. "Now, now," Emmett continued, "that's just not nice. I know you're new and slightly scared sweetie, but this is still your twenty first birthday."

Emmett addressed John directly after that. "Luckily, I, like a gay Mother Theresa, am willing to overlook your little party faux paus and give you exactly what you deserve. Now how about some cake and presents?"

They had been waiting in the wings. John blinked, gasped, and did everything short of a dead faint. Four men wearing practically nothing. Scratch that. Four Italian men wearing practically nothing except for jock straps and the red body paint markings of the letters of cake across their chest.

Emmett plowed on, ignoring John's heart palpitations. "Well, we actually might have blown the entire budget on cake, but we'll both agree that it's worth it and there's plenty of frosting between the four them." Emmett and the crowd broke out into laughter and then he sighed. "But seriously. What we have for you is something that we all knew you wanted. The gift of song. Happy birthday honey and many happy returns." Emmett kissed John's forehead and pranced off the stage as Ben turned John to face away from the crowd. He registered the microphone going in his hand but couldn't feel anything.

John looked into Ben's eyes with pleading. "I don't understand." Actually, he understood pretty well and a large part of him tried to not approve.

Ben smiled, nodding his head. "Anyone who's ever seen you onstage would. This is your present. This is your chance to show these mannequins how sexy real men can be. Happy birthday John."

John almost lost hold of his microphone as Ben's gave him a quick kiss on his invisibly parched lips. The world hated him; he just knew it. He knew it as Ben practically abandoned him on the stage and the lights dimmed. Then, something strange began to happen that John would later contribute blame on his birthday shot.

The lights of a green laser cut across his chest as the music began. It was One Night Only from Dreamgirls but it wasn't the hymn. He could hear the sounds of the bass, the sounds of the drums. He lost fear in the music. Something began to cloud his eyes; maybe it was the smoke machine or the confetti. Maybe it was the way the first and second buttons on his shirt popped. Or maybe it was the reflection of the hot Italian men in his glasses. Either way, he knew his cue. And he took it without hesitation.

_Oooh_, Come on baby

We've got one night

One night only

The first part was spoken. He saw himself somewhere far away with fascination. Was this his arm rising in single wave and then flowing down his body? That couldn't be his knee bending down with the growing beat. No. He was not signaling those hot Italian men to gather around him. Thanks for asking, though. _Well_, thought John, _if you're going to make a fool of yourself then you might as well go big. _Then it was time to sing.

_You want all my love and my devotion_

_You want my loving soul right on the line_

His hips were shaking. Was he, and this was only his wildest dream mind you, enjoying himself? Was that he, John Penn, concerned Christian and advocate for protest and social justice, weaving through and playing with the pieces of hot Italian birthday cake. What pressure valve had they released on him?

_I have no doubt that I could love you_

_Forever_

_The only trouble is_

I really don't have the time

"Did you know he could dance like that?" Michael leaned in closer after yelling in Ben's ear to hear the response. They stood on the fringe of the growing crowd, men clearly inspired to enjoy themselves after John began to sing and dance. There was strength flowing from him. He made men desire to dance. John was naturally controlling the crowd.

Ben shrugged, swaying and smiling. "I had my suspicions."

_I've got one night only, one night only_

_That's all I have to spare_

"Did you know he could sing like that?"

Ben smiled. "Now that I was aware of."

_One night only_

_Let's not pretend to care_

"But then what's left for me to find out?"

Ben chuckled. "I can only think of one thing."

_One night only, one night only_

_Come on, oh baby, come on_

Michael stopped swaying and tilted his head, examining Ben as his mom had done earlier to John. "Ben, he ran away from a kiss. How do you plan on…?"

_One night only_

_We've only got 'til dawn_

"You trust me? You'd follow my lead, right?"

Michael took hold of Ben's shoulders momentarily. "Always. But then, what's the plan? Ben?"

Ben was already beginning to surf to the stage.

_You and I are really running out of time_

_Come on_

The techno remix of the song filled the place. For once, John was the one making the walls shiver. The Italian men were close, were comfortable with John as he was with them. This was his show and wasn't he the star? Wasn't this the birthday he'd always dreamed of?

He protested being pulled offstage until he saw that it was both Ben and that he was smiling in a way that reminded John of how proud Ben could be of him. You could see it illuminated from his features.


	7. Chapter 7

There were cheers and whistles all around the alley as John headed for Ben and Michael's car. Word had reached the street of the stellar performance, the newest star of Babylon. And everyone wanted to be close to the warmth of the sun. At that moment, however, the bright new supernova was being propelled away by Ben and Michael.

John stretched across the backseat, grinning heartily. "Ah, what a night! And what a send-off towards a Christian reform house! It's one for the record books! Groping and dancing four Italians wearing virtually nothing while being cheered by mobs of gay mannequins! Life is good! Wait. So why am I still not groping hot nearly nude Italian men?"

Ben looked at John through the rearview mirror. "I thought you didn't want that kind of life?"

John stopped, blinking, pulling an answer together. "You're right, professor. Sorry, Ben. I guess I just got swept up in the moment."

Michael peered from his seat, turning and smiling. "You're allowed to do that once in a while. You know that, right?"

John sighed. "What was in that birthday shot?"

Michael continued on as John covered his eyes with a hand. "You're going to be pretty hot property at Babylon from now on dancing like that."

John rolled his eyes. "Won't do me much good where I'm going." Then he proceeded to burst out in laughter that caused his stomach pain. "But I guess I'll be pretty popular at the Republican National Convention, won't I?"

Ben and Michael exchanged glances. "Where did you learn to dance like that?"

John furrowed his brow. "Learn? Nah, Mikey. You don't learn to dance. It comes from somewhere else. Somewhere in the soul."

"Well put." Ben found himself watching John partially through the mirror, a light breaking through the usual dull harshness in his eyes.

Michael continued on. "In any case, if you naturally dance like that then I kind of wonder what else you can do that you've been holding back on."

John's body snapped up in the back, alert. "Michael Novotny, are you hitting on me? Isn't your boyfriend…"?

"In complete agreement. Here we are." Ben pulled the car to a stop.

John sighed heaving. "Home sweet…. Say, where are we?"

Michael popped his seat so John could follow. Ben's head appeared in the open space. "My place. Come on up. Your present's upstairs."

John shrugged and leapt from the backseat. "Why couldn't you have brought it to Babylon?"

John had imagined what Ben's apartment looked like and it was almost accurate. There was warmth here, dotted with passion and a bit of fantastic flare. It was a melding of two destinies. It was Michael Novotny as much as Ben Bruckner. John committed the place to his captive memory. He would need it, would need to remember it when he was lonely and somewhere dark.

"Your place is amazing."

Ben spoke first. "Make yourself at home. No shoes though. Something to drink?"

John declined, just choosing to take in details. He heard the door close and tried futilely to not jump six feet in the air. He mostly succeeded in the venture. The sound of the fridge opening and closing, along with the cracking release of a lid from a bottle of water caused him no alarm at all.

John found the courage to face Ben after doing his best with the details of the apartment. "So where is this…" John lost the ability to speak momentarily. But who could blame him? There was Ben, standing in his own kitchen, sopping wet with water. The bottle was empty, contents dripping from head to shirt, which was becoming rapidly sheerer, "present?"

John's gaze tore toward Michael, who was playing the role of narrator. John could feel himself beginning to breathe again, not fully able to pay attention to anything but the dripping Ben. "We thought we'd like to give you something for your birthday better than a nostalgic piece of crap. Every now and then, a singular thing happens to a very lucky gay man. They get exactly the thing they want and deserve. For you, it's this. A safe and happy twenty _first_."

John moved back, his knee hitting the coffee table. "I don't know what to say. For a moment there I thought you were going to come out in a Green Lantern costume."

Ben shrugged and moved toward a very reluctant John. His hand reached across John's shoulder, leaning on it. "Not a bad idea," Ben chuckled, "but not this time." His eyes, John thought, were they ever so dazzling and deadly as they are now? So sharp and yet so warm. John was pretty sure his insides were melting as he continued to struggle, to listen to Ben. "We only go as far and as fast as you allow. There are certain risks because of my positive nature, but we have precautions for that. It's better than having some random man be your first. You can be safe here if you can accept the risks…."

"Is it safe, though?" John heard himself ask the question, not quite sure where his vocal chords got the strength but fully aware of his trembling knees.

"Nothing is ever completely risk free. I know you aren't sure, but we are. I've been sure since that night in the auditorium. You'd have no doubt if you could see yourself the way I see you, the way your band sees you. But I won't decide for you, won't hesitate for you."

John smiled, focusing on the drops of water piling around Ben's feet on the carpet. "You've both been so kind to me, gone so far for me. I could never…I could destroy you both and your relationship…can't take that chance, Ben. Sorry, I just can't risk your happiness on me. Please, just, just let me go home."

Ben nodded, almost wearing a grimace. "Okay." He breathed John in and out in an almost fatherly embrace. Ben could have savagely torn apart all those Christians length-wise for the things they had made John think and feel. His lips pressed naturally and protectively into the creases of John's forehead.

By the time the pair realized they didn't wish to break free, it was too late. Maybe it was the birthday shot. Maybe it was Ben's scent, that damn ivory and sweat mixture that drove him insane. But John couldn't help it. He had to know, just this once. He needed to know in this one night, in this one night only.

The brink of ecstasy is about as sharp as a steep cliff meeting Donald Trump's tongue. It was a combination of factors, everything from this evening and the past colliding into one fervent moment. Or maybe it was just because Ben was there, was that close and cared that much. In any case, John found himself pressing forward, his mouth nibbling on Ben's collarbone.

"Have to stop." John moved away for a breath.

"Please don't," hearing Ben's breathy reply was too much encouragement for John. He acknowledged know that he didn't care if cloth, jean, or a two-ton cement mixer encased in its own payload stopped him. As John moved back for another breath, Ben's eyes brightened. "Will you stay then?"

John gulped. "Promise me my heart won't be broken at the end?"

Ben stared directly into John's eyes, which failed to focus any other direction. "Promises are nothing more than the plaything of fools with time. And time is that which none of us have the luxury of."

That was enough to cause John to throw himself at Ben, shattering the thin stream of air that had developed between them. Every question and moment of doubt and pain spouted through John's mouth and was blown away by Ben's spicy breath. One tongue slipped into the mouth of the other and John felt movement behind him.

Michael's hands were there, concentrating on his buttons. Each pop ran through John's mind like the roar of cannons. John's shirt was the first article of clothing gone. Out of the corner of his eye he watched it float as a snowflake to the carpet.

Michael giggled. "Wow. Can't remember the last time I was part of a cub sandwich."

"Tasty," was Ben's comment as he dove into the sparsely haired chest. Of course, John wasn't in the best shape of a gay man. He was built like a football player, just the tiniest bit heavier. But he was broad-shouldered with thick muscles. He was surprised at how built he actually looked compared to Ben. Maybe he had been wrong about being so heavy all those years. Maybe it had been something else that had created all those walls between him and the rest of the world.

John's laugh at Ben's comment tilted more toward a groan after awhile. John shut his eyes, feeling himself lift away from his own body. He watched the proceedings with unattached and disbelieving emotion. Michael was pressed against him hard, not intent on just being a voyeur. Truth be told, it was incredibly hot. Not that John had much experience in gauging such things. John's hands gripped backwards onto Michael as Ben continued lowering himself through John's fur.

Michael chuckled this time. "I think he likes it." If it was possible, the phrase turned John on all the more. Relief washed over John's nerves as Ben stopped teasing and started lightly nibbling all the way down to his ribs. Michael's fingers created goose bumps in the wake of the wandering trails. John's skin became more sensitive to what was happening than he really knew how to handle.

"Mmm…somebody's happy to see me." John's head rolled backwards, giving Michael a chance to kiss his neck and collar bone as he observed Ben. Ben, for his part, was kneading the formation in John's pants. Michael was well aware of Ben's talent in kneading. But how long would John be able to hold out before he succumbed to the professor's obvious talents?

"Better be careful, Ben. Wouldn't want him to finish before we even start."

John's eyes went wide. "And what exactly would you call what we've been doing?"

"The warm up." Ben didn't hesitate, but moved back into John's black Dockers. John's temperature was kept from rising too high by an old pocket watch chain serving as a necklace and his new glasses. That is, until Ben's mouth moved against his zipper, teeth grabbing and beginning to pull.

"Wait."

"Hmmm?" Ben's mouth had pulled halfway, his nose just entering the part of the zipper.

"This isn't right."

"You want to stop?"

"No! No, I mean…I…"

"Tell me." Ben's voice was neither a threat nor a command. It felt like a polite directive except there was more behind it that John had no experience in identifying.

Michael continued to tease John's rib cage as he joked. "Wait too long and we'll just assume you want the blindfolds and paddle."

John bat his eyelids against Michael's cheek. "You're so not helping."

"John…" Ben looked up, quirking his eyebrow.

"Okay, okay. One breath, say it real fast and then die of embarrassment." John proceeded to take said breath. He closed his eyes as well, envisioning his entire body turning an unattractive shade of blush red. "Ever since the first time we were really close, the first time we danced together. I've been wondering what it would be like to cascade down every inch of your body like one of those sweat drops."

John opened his eyes only to find that Ben was not only dead serious but he had stripped in the moments that John had taken for his monologue. Ben was smiling and John came forward without being beckoned. Still slightly unsure of where to begin, he started again at the collarbone and did begin to work his way down each dark line and crevice. It was more than he had ever imagined or needed it to be. The scents were stronger, the shade of skin more vivid. And Ben was there, the noises of audible encouragement present. John could also hear sounds coming from Michael. He glanced back at Michael, who was watching his lover being worshipped. His member was released from his pants and he was stroking furiously.

"You know, Michael, there's a lot more meat than just one man can handle here…"

"I thought you'd never ask." Michael leapt at the chance to join in the fun. Ben's vocal range became more with the addition of a second pair of lips and tongue.

John stopped and thought for a second as he approached the end of Ben's abs, or his sex arrows as one friend had so ungraciously referred to them. His voice weakened just a bit. "Condoms in the bedroom?"

Michael grinned. "Don't have to go that far just yet. I'm just like a Boy Scout. Always prepared." From his pocket came out several choices of wrapping paper.

John pointed to the one on top of the pile in Michael's hand. "You know, I've heard the flavored ones aren't very reliable."

Michael shook his head several times. "Urban myth. I've actually gone to the website. They've got videos ensuring quality."

John shrugged. "Good to know."

"Guys…" Ben tried to wait patiently.

John continued, unabated. "Guess I'll have to take your word for it."

Michael winced as he searched until he found one he liked. "I've got grape. Always a winning flavor."

John shook his head and Michael sighed. "Grape flavored anything always makes me dehydrated."

"How about strawberry or pineapple?"

"Ben's cock is not a fruity drink on a Mexican beach, Michael."

"Fellas?" Ben's voice cracked a little. This was not a fair conversation for him.

Michael continued to search through his pile, several falling to the floor like confetti. He shook his head. "Let's see. Well, there's vanilla. Scratch that. Never much of a success with that flavor."

"Oooh…do you have chocolate or caramel?"

"My boyfriend is not a hot fudge sundae, John. Although…it is your birthday." Michael's eyes looked far away for just a moment, focusing on the kitchen and forgetting that Ben rarely had anything to do with ice cream therein.

"Think I'd need to burn off a few more calories first." John grinned like a laughing wolf taking a break from a cold stream of water.

"Guys!" What did Ben have to do? Prance around in feathers and cluck like a chicken to get their attention?

"What?" Michael and John spoke at the same time.

"Can we stop torturing the hunky professor now, please?" Ben's voice wasn't impatient but did have a hint of slight need.

John turned from Ben to Michael. "Is he always this impatient?"

Michael nodded. "This is nothing…you should have seen him that time when…"

John interrupted the story, pointing to the last condom in Michael's hand. "Hey! How about this one?"

Michael nodded approvingly. "Classic! Great choice. Ultra-ribbed for his pleasure."

Ben's eyes dilated. "What?"

Michael savored each word as he rolled the sheaf over the shaft. "For…his…pleasure."

Ben's knees promptly began going very weak. There was lots of meeting of eager tongues and kisses between the pair. His hands kneaded the back of both heads as the bobbed around the skin. There was nothing in the world to Ben quite like passion. And this was definitely not lacking in the department of passion. And any approval he got from Ben caused John to work harder toward his ultimate cause.

"Might need to…move…to the bed…" Ben's labored breathed indicated that he probably wasn't going to be able to stand much longer. He scooped John up into his arms as they moved toward the room. "Like I said, never doubt your talents."

John ambled with them towards the threshold, which, to John, felt very large. This was really the point of no return.

Michael batted his eyelids as he entered, which was difficult for John to concentrate on. His cute little butt was swinging through the air as he gave a slight jump onto the bed after unceremoniously stepping from his clothing. "You know, there is a no clothes policy in effect here."

"John…"

John waved Ben away. "Go ahead. I just need…a second." John watched the pair together for just a moment. He felt raw guilt and needing to need this so much gnawing away at him. This really might be his last chance. To go through this door was significant, so much more than even he could realize or imagine for himself_. It would be so easy to turn, to run, and to keep running. Maybe to Canada_, John thought. _They don't know me there. I could start over. Not have to be Christian, not have to be gay. Not have to be anything._

But it was those damn traitorous hands that fumbled again, not allowing him to leave. His stubborn knees and toes joined in the rebellion. John was pretty sure that even his liver and spleen were in on the mutiny. There was one part of himself that he was sure was committed to the venture. He sighed, finishing the job Ben had started on his jeans and ripping them away. He bit down of his lip. John had come this far. What was the point without total commitment?

John shut off the light and backed into the room. He was still embarrassed about his weight, his fur, about generally being uncovered in many different senses of the word. Any embarrassment fled as Ben whistled low with a touch of envy. "I see you were holding out on us."

John stopped, blinking, turning back towards the pair. "What?"

Michael grinned largely. "Nice ass."

John was stunned. "Must be all that walking I do."

Michael's fingers patted the first flesh. "I suddenly feel very honored."

"Why?" John drew out the word with curiosity at the response. The response was the feeling of being pulled closer towards Michael's fingers, which were exploring clenched areas of his body.

Ben moved around to John's front, cock to cock. His hands moved onto John's bare shoulders. "Relax. My word to you still holds. We stop if you want."

John gulped. "Ben, are you going to…fuck me?"

Ben smiled. "Oh yes. But I'm going to make you want it more than anything first."


	8. Chapter 8

A trio of voices moved through the night and there are many compliments to such a complex symphony. John thought of several moments while he drifted away to sleep. The way that Ben's abs moved as John lay across him, his tongue deep in Michael's balls. The special quiver in Ben's voice as he shoots a second load into another condom near your body. The way ink coursed through Michael's scent and complimented the ivory of Ben as two different hands knead your head.

And that final, unequivocal exhaustion in the last groan as you surrender to the embers of a dying lust. And then Ben is near, kissing you sweetly as your eyelids grow heavy. The way Michael's hands naturally fall into the crook of your hips as you lay between the two. John shook his head, trying not to nuzzle into Ben. He realized that being between the pair just wasn't right. It was foolish and he wanted to wish Ben and Michael all the happiness that he seemed to be barred from. John had no desire to divide them. He wanted, needed them to be happy. And yet, here he was.

John watched Ben fall deep into slumber. The way his eyelids closed even stole a bit of his breath. John awoke later from a small amount of sleep. He burrowed into Ben, pressing his ear naturally against the chest. Adding to the visuals from earlier was this sound, the sound of a similar human heartbeat. John threw the sound in his mental box, convinced he needed it for his own survival. Hastily biting down on his lip as he pulled away, John tried to feel like he could go without leaving a piece of himself behind. One last gaze, John promised himself. And then the task of quiet extradition began.

Michael awoke to the sound of the door sliding deftly shut. The shadow didn't quite register until he heard the movement in Ben's front room. Michael winced as he checked the time. After several minutes had passed, Michael was convinced John wasn't using the bathroom. It was time to move. Michael knew Ben wouldn't wake up. Not quite yet, anyways.

It was apparent to him that John had been trying to make a quiet getaway. But he had spectacularly failed. "Making your escape?"

John stopped, one foot over the threshold. What should he say? Should he continue on? No, John told himself. He owed that much to Michael. He shirt swung open, except for a couple of buttons and a cranberry scarf lying twisted around his neck. "I…I have obligations Mikey."

"Are any of them to yourself?" Michael's eyes bore a hole into the back of his head.

John turned, greeted by Michael wearing a pair of dark crème pajama bottoms. "Honestly? No. Eagle Reform isn't maintained for those who attend."

Michael motioned to the couch. "Just one more minute won't hurt, will it?" John sighed, groping his way back to the reading lamp, clicking on the soft light and then squishing himself into a chair. It made him uncomfortable the way Michael looked at him with those sad deer eyes. "Ben and I were both hoping tonight would be enough reason for you to stay in Pittsburgh."

John blinked and then shrugged. "Of course you were. If I were in your shoes…maybe I'd have done the same thing. But I could never stay. Maybe it would help if I told you that you've given me the same thing Captain Astro instilled in you all those years ago."

"A love of man in spandex?"

John smiled. The way Michael crinkled his forehead when you couldn't tell if a question was serious or sarcastic was wonderful. "Hope. I can go now with a special prayer for myself, for others just like me. Through me, you give them that same hope."

"You're not a martyr. You don't have to be one either."

"Yes I am, Michael. And yes, I do have to be."

"No you don't. Just stop, take a moment to look at what you've done with your life in the short time I've known you! The world can be better because of you. Your world can be better!"

John shook his head and sighed. "You know, the one thing I never wanted to do was anger God."

Michael tried to stay cool as the rage, the argument against John's leaving built. "Maybe his plan is more complicated. Did you ever think of that?"

"I have. But are you asking because you believe that or because you want me to stay?"

"What do you think?"

John stood. "Goodbye Mikey."

Those damn doe eyes flashed again. "Well, at least stay until Ben wakes up."

John chuckled. "We both know that if I did that then I'd never leave. And being homeless with my pride is just not an option I'm currently looking to pursue."

"We can find a way…"

"NO, Mikey." John put as much emphasis as he could muster as he tried to walk towards the door. "I won't do that. Not to you and certainly not to him."

Michael shook his head, noticing the new scrap of paper with writing on the coffee table. "What's this?"

John turned, addressing the sheet of paper Michael was holding. "Call me old-fashioned, but you just don't skip out on the men who made you love again, at least not without leaving a note of some sort. Even if you do take one's scarf as a memento during dark and stormy nights."

Michael's lips moved as he read the note. "You know, he probably would have let you have the scarf. He has two more just like it. Hold on just one second though."

John sighed. "Why? Haven't we said all that…."?

Michael shook his head. "That's not it. That's not it at all. It's this. This is good." He held up the note, waving it in his hands.

"Stop trying to tempt me, Michael."

Michael rolled his eyes. "No, I mean it. Come sit back down." He began to read the letter to John, who inched forward until they were sitting incredibly close on the couch. John felt as though the words weren't just him, almost as though they were a foreign entity. When Michael had finished, he turned to John. "I can't write like this."

"I know, I know. I've heard it from Ben almost a million times. Don't waste your talents." John raised his hands in a worn-out shrug.

"No, I mean, I could use this…for the comic book."

"For Rage? Really?" John's face carved out a look of disbelief.

"It's poetic, heartfelt, succinct! I don't think Ben knew about this when he talked about your talent. Just listen to this line…"

John interrupted with a shrugged. "My work's not that good. Just college essays and some fan fiction for Buffy. That's nothing special. There are thousands of people across the world capable of what I'm capable of."

"Maybe in heteroland." Michael's voice dripped with a bit of sarcasm right before he yawned. "But I'm too tired to discuss it now, although I probably won't fall asleep for a few more minutes. Let's try to get a few more hours of sleep."

John sighed, beginning to unbutton his shirt. "I'll stay on the couch."

"Why?" Michael's voice ringed with suspicion.

"No, it's not that…it's just…I can't, I don't want to come between you two."

Michael shook his head. "Will you stop worrying about it? You won't. And I mean that." His hand reached across and gripped John's knee. "If anything, rescuing you has made us stronger as a couple and as ourselves."

"Only if you're sure." John stared into Michael's eyes.

Michael felt the surprise in John's body as the pair met in a kiss. But then there was the moment where surprise melted into warmth and a long hold on breath. Kissing Michael was nothing like kissing Ben. They had different techniques and a different understanding. But Ben's phantom was still lying on both lips. "There. Now do you see how sure I am?"

John took a moment, blinking, trying to think of a response, when Michael's eyes went wide with surprise. "Holy shit! You're still hard! How many times did you…"?

John shook his head and shrugged.

Michael tried to digest the response briefly. "That's so not fair. This was your birthday present. I know I got off at least twice. Okay, even if you leave, we so have to fix this right now."

The best way to describe what happened next is that Michael tore into John solely with the express purpose of giving him pleasure before he could object. Because Michael knew he would object, being on the cusp of having a reason to stay. Michael decided he would put his all into what he needed to do. This was his Captain Astro moment, thanks for asking.

Determination filled the room as the button on his black Dockers popped and John felt himself being slipped away from them. It was insanity to allow him to…"Michael…oh my God…"

Michael looked up, his eyes filled with a twinkle. "Babbling. Now that's a sign of a job going well. Means you feel comfort." He popped the last word with joy before going back to the task at hand. Or mouth, if you're into that kind of humor.

"You've got to…stop."

Michael stopped for a moment when John's head touched the back of his throat, the smell of peppermint near to Michael's nose. "Really? You want me to stop?"

John flumped back onto the couch, feeling his legs spread naturally to give Michael more room. Michael continued, enjoying the way John arched his back across the couch. He thought for a moment. "You're close, aren't you? This time just let it go."

John stunned and with slightly misted-over eyes, responded. "Is it safe?"

Michael responded with a smile while allowing the length of the shaft to move through his mouth and near his throat. John grimaced in pleasure and thus began the longest groan in history where he promptly did just as Michael had commanded him. He gave up and came.

"Feel better?" The best way to respond to Michael was to pull him up onto the couch and into a kiss.

As they broke apart, Michael's arm moved across John's shoulders. He didn't really need to be guided back to the bedroom. It was a symbolic gesture of love, support, encouragement, maybe even a bit of faith.

John whispered as Michael slid the door quietly back open. "Hope I didn't wake Ben up."

Michael shook his head as he moved the blanket from his portion of the sleeping space so John could slide back in. "If you did, he won't remember it for long."

Ben stirred at the moment. His voice was drowsy as John moved back into his snuggling space. "Hey. Where'd you two get off to?"

Michael grinned. "You could call it a midnight snack."

Ben smiled, brushing away a bit of hair from John's forehead. "Burned off enough calories for that sundae finally?" John leaned into the touch of Ben's hand and found he was almost drifting away as Michael snuggled into the other side, hand naturally moving back to the crook of his hip.

Later, John was glad he didn't doze right away because Ben spoke again in a very truthful and low tone. "I'm glad you stayed."

John sighed, allowing himself to feel a bit of real warmth that he hadn't felt in what seemed like a long time. "So am I, Ben. So am I."

And with that, the trio fell asleep. And John got chocolate chip pancakes in the morning.

Author's Note: Thanks and encouragement go to foreverbm, Danny, and sprite1980 for reading, supporting the story, and giving some much needed encouragement and information. Thank you for making me feel so special and loving this story so much. It's the beginning of something great to come on Liberty Avenue. I wish you, and all of my other phantom readers and reviewers, each the blessings of joy, love, and self-confidence. And a bit of Ben and Michael in your everyday lives.


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